Of Cardboard Boxes and Friendship
by OniChild42
Summary: Did you ever wonder what how Angie and Lenny became friends? No? Really? Well, then, why are you still reading this? Angie/Lenny friendship-centric fic. Beware, may be slightly depressing. Rated T for mild language, nothing extreme.


"'_Ice_'? What is he, the Godfather or somethin'?" Oscar chuckled sarcastically, his fins swiping imaginary quotation marks through the water around him. When he had set out only hours before to "take care of" some great whites, he never would have imagined that he'd end up here, in the storeroom, listening to the confession a vegetarian shark. And after all of the events of that night, he sniggered disbelievingly, certain he had heard wrong from the gentle herbivore.

The said vegetarian shark lay deflated onto his improvised bed and was staring blankly up at the ceiling. He was mildly zoned out from all the stress he had undergone in the last couple of weeks. The question registered in his mind and his brain instantly responded, unaware of how shocking his news would be. He turned and gazed up at the schemer with innocent green eyes, shrugging his left shoulder nonchalantly.

"Yeah." He grinned sheepishly.

Oscar blinked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little person labeled "intelligent thought" swan-dived off a cliff. Screaming.

"W-what d'ya mean?" He choked out, his breath quickening at he fought back the need to hyperventilate. _He must be joking. Tell me he's joking. _

Lenny cocked his head to the side, staring contemplatively into the blue eyes of his companion. He had been brought up from birth hearing the older people referring to his father as "Don", and it had never struck him as odd or alarming. But then again, nothing is strange if you have been born and raised to it.

He smiled and shrugged again, oblivious to the obvious state of anxiety Oscar was in.

"Yeah, he is."

--

Oscar was the type of fish who could either regain or lose his composure at a moments notice. His flighty nature blew with the wind. He often prided himself in his ability to grasp the situation and morph it to his advantage. Of course, he still managed to land himself in some pretty crappy fixes, and there were times when he would lose control of his emotions, but he was generally a very competent fish.

However, as soon as those words passed the vegetarian's lips, all comprehension of coherent thought followed intelligent thought right off the edge of the cliff into oblivion.

In short, Oscar's mind went boom.

He was out of there faster than most things can blink. In the next few minutes a single thought began to form in his mind, and as terrible as it was, he just couldn't deny it.

_He_ had taken credit for killing Don Lino's _son_.

As he swam he swore violently under his breath, angered beyond belief at his own stupidity. He made a hard right for the penthouse, swerving to avoid a collision course with a disgruntled mackerel and a pair of tourfish. Once he was out of the traffic zone, he made a beeline for his home.

_I have to quit,_ he chanted in his head. _I have to get out while I still can._

--

Lenny sat quietly in the storeroom, staring at the swirling masses of bubbles that had once been Oscar. After a moment his sluggish mind realized that yet again, he had been left alone.

Outside, the Whale Wash sign creaked. One employee, a straggler who had to stay behind to finish up, accidentally knocked over a stack of tongue-scrubbing brooms. They clattered to the concrete floor, the sound echoing down the cavernous Wash.

Lenny, hearing the noise, let out a yelp and held his pillow up to his chest defensively. He shivered, and strained to hear the steady, resounding fin-strokes signaling that he had been discovered...But the odd thing was, he didn't hear the sound of an approaching aggressor, all he heard was...

Silence.

Once his heart had stopped attempting to leap out of his chest, Lenny lowered the pillow from it's protective position in front of him. Thinking back to it, a pillow would not have been a very effective means of protecting himself from...whatever it was that he thought was going to attack him anyways. But he was young and childish, and common sense was something that he rarely thought about, let alone _used._

"I-It's nothing...Nothing, Lenny...Get a hold of yourself, you big baby...It was just...some supplies falling over, it's nothing..." He chanted. He could hear how his voice was wavering in fear, and he hated it.

"It's nothing, it's nothing..."

_It's **nothing.**_

Lenny decided to leave the light on that night.

--


End file.
